975. 7L6? 
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Seymour,    Mayce   F, 

The  Lincoln  memorial  ;    an 

od^*    for*    '  inco'n's    Birthd< 


LINCOLN  ROOM 

UNIVERSITY  OF  ILLINOIS 
LIBRARY 


MEMORIAL 

the  Class  of  1901 

founded  by 

HARLAN  HOYT  HORNER 

and 

HENRIETTA  CALHOUN  HORNER 


The  Lincoln  Memorial 

An  Ode  for  Lincoln's  Birthday 


MAYCE  R  SEYMOUR 


THE  LINCOLN  MEMORIAL 

An  Ode 
for  Lincoln's  Birthday 


THE 
LINCOLN  MEMORIAL 

AN  ODE 
FOR  LINCOLN'S  BIRTHDAY 


BY 

MAYCE  F.  SEYMOUR 


BOSTON 

THE  FOUR  SEAS  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


Copyright,  1927,  by 

THE  FOUR  SEAS  COMPANY 


The  Four  Seas  Press 
Boston,  Mass.,  U.S.A. 


An  Ode 
for  Lincoln's  Birthday 


THE  LINCOLN  MEMORIAL 

Wherever  Man,  the  Builder,  rears  a  home, 
He  builds  a  statelier  structure  and  more  fair, 
A  tower,  a  Gothic  spire,  Byzantine  dome, 
Enriched  with  reverential  and  enduring  art, 
And  summons  a  God  to  make  His  dwelling  there. 
Here  may  He  brood  in  mystic  peace  apart, 
And  in  men's  hearts  engender  lasting  fame, 
Linked  with  melodious  and  compelling  name. 

But  as  the  ages  pass  away, 
Temples  and  gods  to  time  and  change  succumb, 
Victims,  like  man,  of  frail  mortality; 

The  temples  crumble  to  decay, 

The  temple  bells  are  dumb. 
Yet  to  the  undaunted  worshipper  there  come 
New  visions  of  more  lasting  deity, 
And  soon  on  ancient  hill  and  by  historic  stream 

New  domes  and  spires 

[7] 


Answer  the  morning's  rousing  signal  beam. 

Fresh  kindled  are  the  altar  fires, 

New  images  the  niches  grace, 
Beneficent,  the  god,  new-throned,  to  worshipping 
throngs  reveals  his  face. 

Still  stands  the  stately  Parthenon, 

A  godless  and  deserted  shrine, 
Though  wantonly  wrecked  and  ravaged,  a  ruin  divine ; 
And  still  its  majesty  and  its  perfection  speak 
Of  that  rich  time  when  Athene  smiled  upon 

The  gifted  and  inspired  Greek. 

And  when  men's  hearts  forgot  the  Olympian  host, 
And  the  great  hierarchy  of  splendid  Rome, 

They  builded  them  in  East  and  West, 

Lasting  until  this  hour, 
The  shining  minaret  and  Gothic  tower, 

'Neath  which,  with  pious  breath, 
To-day  pass  high  and  low,  the  rich  and  poor, 
To  bend  the  knee,  repeat  the  holy  shibboleth. 
Christ  and  Mohammed,  Mohammed  and  the  Christ, 
Cherished  the  one  by  Christian,  one  my  Moor, 
Between  them  part  the  Western  world  to-day 

[8] 


Where  once  the  pagan  deities  held  undisputed  sway. 
A  thousand  minarets  in  sunlight  shine, 
A  thousand  Gothic  spires  invoke  the  blue, 
Man  dreams  again  his  dream  of  the  divine, 
And  works  in  stone  to  keep  his  vision  true. 

To  keep  her  vision  true,  America 
Has  built  a  temple,  a  new  Parthenon, 
And  dedicated  to  a  godlike  son. 

Within  the  Founder's  city, 
By  the  Potomac's  living  stream 
Rises  this  fairest  temple  of  the  West, 
The  marble  image  of  a  nation's  dream, 
Shrine  of  the  new,  the  great  America, 
Symbol  of  all  that  she  holds  holiest,  best. 

To-day  and  every  day 
The  breezes  kiss  its  roof  and  play 
Among  its  Doric  columns,  graceful  yet  severe; 

White  and  cool 

Its  image  drowses  in  a  pool. 

Nature  spreads  at  its  feet 
A  wistful  beauty  that  like  the  temple  knows 
(Sweet  wisdom  of  the  lily  and  the  rose) 
Only  its  own  perfection,  finished  and  complete. 

[9] 


And  overhead,  in  the  deep  southern  sky, 
The  clouds  pass  worshipfully  by. 

Greek  and  not  Greek,  no  old  world  god  dwells  here, 
Not  Zeus  or  great  Athene,  goddess  fair, 

Not  Buddha  or  the  Christ ; 
But  a  majestic  figure  and  serene, 
Seated  within  the  open  audience  room, 
A  giant  in  form,  a  kindly  god  in  mien, 
With  hands  of  blessing  on  his  marble  chair, 
And  brooding  and  compassionate  face, 
He  radiates  beneficence  and  peace. 
To  young  and  old,  to  bond  and  free 
Extends  his  Christlike  charity; 
Mighty  in  mercy,  in  power  to  forgive, 
With  godlike  will  to  let  all  creatures  live, 

His  is  the  faith 

More  strong  than  death 
In  man  and  in  democracy. 


10 


Turn  for  a  moment  now  across  the  seas 
To  where,  in  France,  Napoleon, 
The  Gallic  demigod,  yea,  god  indeed, 
Sleeps  in  his  tomb  within  Les  Invalides. 

Genius  of  pent-up  power, 
Guided  by  Caesar  and  him  of  Macedon, 
He  did  not  shrink  to  see  his  Europe  bleed, 
And  her  strong  manhood  laid  upon  the  fires 

Of  his  ambition's  funeral  pyres. 
And  still  so  potent  is  that  passionate  breast, 

He  will  not  stay  entombed,  at  rest; 
But  only  now,  as  if  he  gave  the  word, 
A  ghastly  signal  round  the  world  was  heard; 

Europe  was  wracked  with  strife ; 
His  spirit  stirred,  enkindled  warrior  flame, 

Menaced  the  heart  of  life. 
Still  thrilled  men's  hearts  at  mention  of  his  name, 
And  on  the  altar  was  laid  the  awful  price 
Of  hate  and  greed,  a  bloody  sacrifice. 

The  " Scourge  of  Europe,"  demigod  of  power, 
Self-willed,  unbending,  lost  to  faith  and  love, 
He  ruled  the  world  until  the  bitter  hour 
Of  his  ambition's  doom, 

in] 


Which  knelled  upon  a  heart  insatiate. 
Ambition  gathers  still  about  his  tomb, 
And  lays  her  wreaths  of  worship  there, 
The  sepulchre  of  darkness  and  despair; 

That  it  may  sink  in  endless  gloom, 
Last  monument  of  the  dark  and  bloody  past, 
And  of  earth's  cruel  tyrannies  the  last 

Is  now  our  hope  and  prayer ! 
The  while,  auspicious  on  the  new  world  shore, 
Marking  the  dawning  of  the  kindlier  age, 

Rises  one  temple  more, 
The  ages'  crown  and  faith's  bright  heritage. 
A  nation's  tribute  to  the  honest  heart, 
The  simple  faith,  the  open,  friendly  hand, 
The  will  that  every  soul  shall  play  a  part 
In  life's  rich  drama  in  a  favored  land. 


[12] 


First  of  the  heroes  who  in  this  new  world 
Herald  the  dawn  of  the  new  hope  of  man, 
Our  Lincoln  sleeps  not  in  a  marble  tomb 

Waiting  decay's  slow  doom; 
But  raised  by  a  unanimous  people's  will, 
And  resurrected  in  the  living  soul, 
He  lives,  he  works  his  kindly  purpose  still, 
And  leads  his  people  to  far-visioned  goal. 
Our  father,  brother,  he  whom  we  adore, 
Our  hero  and  our  dear  familiar  friend, 

Our  god,  if  god  there  be 

To  hearken  and  implore, 
Our  trusted  guide  and  leader  to  the  end. 
He  speaks,  the  marble  walls  his  words  declare 
With  greater  power  than  when  mystically, 
Before  the  lighted  altar,  the  priest  intones  resounding 
prayer. 

With  malice  towards  none,  with  charity  towards  all — 
What  other  age  and  other  people  heard 

Such  Christlike  word 
From  lips  of  conqueror  or  ruler  fall? 
And  those  in  slavery's  hopeless  tenement 

[13] 


Have  felt  from  aching  Hi*  ri    the  fetters  fall, 
When  he  proclaimed  the  people's  government, 
Of  all,  by  all,  for  all,  and  all  in  all. 

Memorialed  in  stone  he  sits  apart, 
Our  godlike  Lincoln,  like  a  god  alone. 

But  builded  not  of  stone 
Is  his  true  temple  and  not  made  by  hands, 
Nor  is  it  founded  on  the  shifting  sands 
Of  the  despot's  little  hour  or  the  tyrant's  boast ; 

Nor  reared  at  cost 

Of  blood  and  tears 

And  wronged,  protesting  years. 
But  it  is  builded  of  a  people's  will, 

And  has  its  counterpart 

In  every  faithful  heart, 
And  though  the  marble  crumble,  it  endures  there  still. 
It  has  grown  out  of  human  gratitude, 
The  heart's  thanksgiving  is  its  source  and  spring, 
It  stands  a  living  monument  as  in  a  wood 
Towers  towards  heaven  the  regal   forest  king. 
Its  floor  and  cornerstone  are  honest  faith 
In  God's  good  purpose  manifest  again ; 

[14] 


Its  open  hall  is  love  of  liberty; 

The  pure  white  pillars  of  its  colonnade 

Are  the  strong  will  to  peace  which  faithfully 

Uphold  its  noble  crown — good  will  to  men. 

Although  to-day 
We  may  not  pause  before  the  classic  grace 
And  feel  the  present  spell  of  this  memorial, 
Nor  at  our  hero's  feet  our  wreaths  of  worship  lay, 

Nor  bear  from  his  calm  face 
Blessing  and  peace,  we  may  commemorate 

This  holy  festival 
Here  in  his  own,  this  prairie  state, 

And  his  great  words  repeat. 
With  malice  towards  none,  with  charity 
Towards  all  our  fellows,  we  here  dedicate 

Our  lives  to  liberty, 

Renew  again  our  faith, 
And  highly  resolve  that  on  this  continent 
And  in  this  nation  there  shall  be  rebirth 
Of  freedom,  so  that  the  people's  government, 
Saved  at  the  cost  of  martyrdom  and  death, 
Shall  flourish,  shall  not  perish  from  the  earth. 

[15] 


UNIVERSITY  OF  ILLINOIS  URBANA 

973.7L63H2SE9L  C001 

THE  LINCOLN  MEMORIAL  BOST 


0112  031824185 


